


Playing Dangerous

by BadBedForBedding



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 1950's, 50's, Alternate Universe, Assassination Plot(s), Cop and Criminal, F/M, Fire, Gen, Interrogation, Reunions, Sexual Tension, suspect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 07:51:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4213863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadBedForBedding/pseuds/BadBedForBedding
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A certain No one is being interrogated by a famously known bullheaded cop.</p><p>Inspired by Lana Del Rey's song of the same name.</p><p>*previously posted on tumblr* revised twince and edited to add a new ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing Dangerous

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this fic previously on my tumblr " badbedforbedding ", but wasn't satisfaed with the end, so a added more to it and edited what needed be.  
> I hope you enjoy ;)
> 
> Disclaimar: It's needless to say that this amazing characters don't belong to me, but to the wonderfull George R. R. Martin.

**Monday, May 3th of 1954. 3:46 AM**

All the courage from before has extinguished her body as those piercing blue eyes stared right back into her cold grey ones from across the steal table.  
Arya recoiled her own eyes down, so she could shot it up again under the pretty shield of her long eyelashes.  
He didn’t respond to that; at least not the way she expected. The girl was used to the male attention and knew how to extract any reaction she wanted; anyway, that wasn’t even the hardest lesson a girl had achieve in The House of Black and White, especially when one is taught directly from experienced whores;- her angular face and sharp cheekbones also helped.  
The cop frowned at her and displayed a thoughtful countenance, looking like he was in pain.  
“Where are you from, Miss?” He started the interrogation.  
“Braavos, Officer.” She tried to pull out her most soft voice; breathy due to her suppose fright state, kind of shaky but still rich and sexy in a way only her could manage.  
He, still distrustful of her, cleared his throat and straightened his wide shoulders before looking at her face and taking in her expression; he drank in every detail, from her smoke mess off hair to her quivering full lips; at her ashes dirtied jaw and her slightly red big eyes; her chest rising and falling with every intake of air.  
He settled his glare at her stormy eyes before speaking again:  
“And how did you get inside such big private event?” He asked, referring to the Lannister Corp. annual party directed to Lannisters only.  
“I went as a companion to Devan Lannister. We met a few weeks ago, he was so nice to me, we’d had some dates before tonight, and I think he wanted to introduce me to his family.” She smiled sadly, lying smoothly.  
“I see. Where were you when the fire began?”  
“At the staff stairway, I needed to clear my head from the drinks, I heard the screaming and walked back to see what was happening but a throng of servants came rushing to the exit and pushed me back, I only saw the cloud of smoke coming out of the great hall. I ran and once outside I looked back to see the house already on fire.” She said. She needed to tread carefully now; so she maintained her gaze on the far wall instead of at him, a lone tear rolled down her cheek, looking not as much sad as she was scared. She turned her face up ward, to the celling and released a broken sigh. If this man keeps up with that stubborn attitude, she would have to strike up to a different tactic, but again his hunting eyes were following her every move and taking her completely off guard and unprepared for the feeling it provoked on her.  
“Are you alright, Miss?”  
Arya focused her attention on his face, and noted his concerned expression. Smiling her sweetest smile, showing off her white, perfect teeth, she answered:  
“I’m a little shaky, but I’m fine, thanks for asking.”  
His deep gaze was leaving hot trails at her skin and making her stomach flutter. _"For the anxiety to leave this place already"_ , she assured herself.  
It made her shift in her uncomfortable chair, in which she was attached with handcuffs to; her arms behind her back and the chair’s; the cuffs locked her wrists to the iron bars that made the back support of the chair.  
“Do I really need to use those tight handcuffs on?”  
He looked at her graceful form bent back awkwardly, and seemed to shrug a little; _"at least that was a reaction"_ she thought; he stood up – overwhelming her- to his full height. The hulking man across her looked down at her petite self and smiled mysteriously.  
The girl pushed back her chair to give herself more space as he walked around the table to her.  
Once in front of her, she didn’t dare look up at his handsome face.  
“You wouldn’t be giving me any trouble now, will you?” He asked and curved his body down toward hers. He sneaked his strong arms around her to reach her wrists, their faces only a breath away from each other. She turned her face a little and grazed his lobe with her nose, smelling his manly accent.  
“Everybody knows that I’m a good girl, Officer.”  
In the meantime he freed her hands and came to look at her; face to face, nose to nose; his eyes bore into her core; making her Her for a second, not the foreign girl from Braavos; she was Arya Stark of Winterfell.  
It came to her then; _"His eyes, they see it all"_. Panic striked at her and she bit her lower lip, hard; something she stopped doing a long time ago.  
He must have sensed the change then, like a breeze of wind in a closed room. This rush of air hit him ever so softly and he breathed deeply into his lungs.  
He put his hands on her shoulders and gave a little squeeze in support; she couldn’t help feeling bewildered at the course things were taking, once she had everything in control, now the girl wasn’t sure of whom she was anymore or what in seven hells had happened…  
“I have no doubt that you are,” - He ran the tips of his fingers up her arms -“and that you are a lady in the purest sense of the word.” He said as his fingers trapped her jaw and chin gently.  
Her eyes flashed with annoyance for second, but in a blink, that look was switched for one of mischief. She hadn’t lost it yet, she could reclaim the upper hand in that scene, _"He doesn’t know anything about me"_ she though, this pretty eyed cop was just playing smart and thought he was getting to her not very long ago, the girl was smarter: better yet, she was No One.  
“I am no lady, Sir.” She said turning pink in fake embarrassment and a supposed flattered manner.  
The man propped himself in the table behind him and looked down at her, he didn’t appear confused with her statement, a bit amused, if anything, but not confused or surprised. It made her think further and wonder who was this honored but clever policemen determined to interrogate her like the old days; any other guy would have let her go with only a whispered word from her, but this man was different, that much she had already learned. But coming to the station, the only name she caught was a hurried ‘Gendry ’coming out of the of the radio transceiver, there was no surname mentioned or a honorific title thrown in the middle indicating his post.  
He chuckled and shook his head to himself. “Well, that’s not the way I see things, m'lady. Here in Westeros, you only need to be born amidst the likes of Lannister, Tully, Martell or any other name of high blood to earn that title, I’m sure that there are important names across the Narrow Sea like here, but even if that isn’t your case, you were dating a Lannister, it’s not hard to say at least that that was what you were aspiring to be, m'lady”  
_‘Right’_ she rolled her eyes mentally and laughed a little at the absurdity of everything. Looking back at him, she replied properly. “You can’t blame a girl for aiming at a higher score.” She kept her hands in her lap, fingers laced together. “Truth be told, that party looked a lot like any other family dinner that I’ve seen, if not even more raucous and kind of fancy, but they are Lannister so there’s nothing knew there.” She finished a bit sheepishly.  
“They were.” He said innocently. “You mean they were Lannisters. Rich, famous and real assholes. But they are all dead now.” Frowning his brow again, he stared at the see through mirror on the wall. “It’s kind of funny if you think of it.”  
“You must have a really dark humor then …” She mumbled more to herself than to him, but he listened anyway, because he started smiling softly at her and it felt truly tender to her.  
“No, I mean… the Lannisters are known for a very similar event that happened decades ago; _The Rains of Castemere?_ ” He said the last bit in a question as if testing her knowledge, to which she gave a short nod in confirmation. ”Yeah… It even turned into a song.” He chuckled. “It’s just that… this looks too much like karma if you ask me.” He finished.  
“You could say that.” Said Arya. “The Gods are merciless when it comes to outstanding depts.” She had turned serious now.  
With each sentence the girl got closer to the edge of her identity; with each look from his knowing eyes she got heavier with the weight of all her past lies, they kept pushing her down the sea of her true self and she had to remember to keep her head above the water; but with only a look of his clear blue gaze Arya’s brain became unable to think straight, and for a half of a second there she… she had to steal herself from submerging on those crystalline pools.  
“Wise words, my lady. But once I heard that the son of a fallen father could be just as relentless as the gods they worship.” He said. Arya was too busy following his wandering form to think further on anything he might be insinuating. He walked calmly around her while still remaining close enough to reach out and run his fingers on her messy hair; grasping lightly at a lock and arranging it behind her ear.  
She had to grip tight on her jeans to keep from attaching the infuriating cop. For some stupid reason his actions and touches could take un-conjured responses from her, his eyes could keep her trained mind from working correctly, he made her feel something that she couldn’t simply brush aside, much less control it; she couldn’t name it or hold it, she knew not what it was but she felt like jumping him, to kiss or punch those stupidly smirking lips of his, she wasn’t sure.  
“The Lions had acquired a good amount of enemies over the years.” He continued, taking her out of her reverie. “So many possibilities but no real suspects or concrete proofs.” He seemed to be recounting a tragedy comedy movie story. “How can we work with this?” he asked incredulous.  
They both knew very well that the fire would be considered accidental, so that wasn’t a real threat of being arrested; going to jail would be least of her worries.  
What really scared her was the chance of being exposed, not the showing her face and bearing her skin type of exposure, but the one that came from inside out of her, the dreadful idea of being opened wild to somebody else.  
Judging from the insolent attitude that this man had with her, he could see past her acting and read her like an open book; it made her feel a strange familiarity, like a déjà vu that come and go in waves, but she could not grab a hold of the memory long enough to figure it out.  
“I wish I could be of any help, sir. But I already told you everything I know.” She said eager to disappear and never be found again.  
“I understand; you must be tired of all my rambling.” He said in somewhat sad manner. He walked to her and extended his right hand to her.  
There was a certain air of expectations from the eminent touch of hands, she lift her own left hand and rested on his much bigger one. A joint of electricity traveled all the way up her arm and ended in a shiver around her spine, she grabbed his fingers harder at this but he seemed not to mind or was just very good in hiding it.  
She finally rose from the chair and had to hold onto him not to fall on her ass, her legs were jelly and weak, like they haven't been used in years; he gladly let her support herself on him and offered his arm for further help.  
It seemed an odd scene to be held. She didn’t know if any of their meeting had been witnessed, but the sudden realization that none of it had been a common procedure but rather the wants of a peculiar officer, left her feeling giddy and hot.  
He walked her out of the room and to the corridors; they passed the empty reception and stopped so he could get his car keys. Once outside he passed his arm around her shoulders to protect her from the chilly wind; the station parking lot was desert in the late, or rather early hour of the morning. Their steps echoed through and fort the space.  
They got to the car, and he stopped short to fully turn and look at her.  
“If you don’t mind me asking … if you had to risk a name, who do you think had done it?” he asked at least.  
With the ‘who’ in question being herself and the ‘it’ being a criminal fire that killed fifty-six persons from the same family at a safely guarded diner party. The only answer she found was a very vague one.  
“Honestly?” she said and he nodded almost unperceptively. “They brought this on themselves.”  
He accepted her answer quietly, and then unlocking the doors after involving her around his discarded jacket, he proffered a “get in” at her way and climbed on his sit.  
Later that same day she would find a simple small business card on one of the pockets of the officer’s jacket that ended up with her; in the card read:

 

 

_‘Detective Gendry Waters_

_Crossroads Police Station, King's Road with River Road_

_Contact: 487-216 20_ _'_

 

 _“Gendry Waters”_ she said the name in her mind, it had a certain ring to it and awoke something in her that she had thought long dead; it held a promise and for her own surprise she was willing to hold him to it even if meant feeling again, living again, being someone and loving again, because when she thought of that man, that stupid and infuriating bull-headed man she felt hope again.

 

**Six Hours Earlier**

The guests remained blissfully unconscious to what was happening above their heads. Music blasted into the speakers and people swigged with the rhythm. Drinks came and went around the room.  
Everything in there screamed and ricked of Lannister.  
It was in the old regency style of the entire hall; in the scarlet red of the table cloths, and in the enormous gold and sparkling chandelier hanging on celling. This luxurious theme extended itself to the guests, all dressed in gala; men in tux and woman wearing all kinds of designed gowns in all colors and shapes, with or without sleeves, glittering or not, too tight or too large, too short or too long. The ball room was a overdone Lannister circus, with a myriad of different clowns.  
Little did they know of the danger sneaking into the corners.  
The God of Death awaited patiently for his offering and soon enough she would give it to Him.  
The assassin was elegantly dreesed in a black, strapless mermaid gown that hugged her silhoette, it's valvet fabric smothing her curves untill it tailed to the floor in white full nets of tulle.  
The girl turned her back to the balcony once again and inspected the scene before her.  
To the far left of the office laid a purple faced Joffrey Baratheon with his eyes staring dead ahead. A deep dark cloth poping out of his lips, it's long anatomy stuffed down into his throat and filling his mouth.  
Direct to her front Cersei Lannister could be seen, fallen on her stomach, straining to hold her beautifull and damaged face from the floor, as if using whatever energy she has left to keep her head high regally. Her left leg was twisted grotesquely.  
Even if the woman was a deplorable human being, she was still strong and hard. _'That's a admirable trait.'_ No one admitted to herself.  
She stripped her right arm of the lone glove ramaining, pulling at each finger slowly and finaly dropping the said glove in the headmaster's chair.  
Walking around the big mahogany table untill she stood right across the "Lannister Queen", she looked down at her green hatefull orbs.  
"That's it." Arya said, more to herself than to her company.  
The Lannister growled violently and made an attempt to reach out her weak hand.  
"Here begins the end." She proclaimed louder this time and as it is common in goodbyes, she gave a last look, offered a last smiled and walked out of the room, but not before dropping a small match on fire.

 

* * *

**Here is the dress Arya was wearing, ~~in case my description wasn't enough~~ :**

**Author's Note:**

> Was is clear that she stragled Joffrey with her left glove? Leave me your comments and reviews about it, your thoughts are deeply appreciated.


End file.
